


Court This Disaster

by Claire



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Teenage Masturbation Fantasies, bb!Chris, bb!peter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-30
Updated: 2014-04-30
Packaged: 2018-01-21 10:44:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1547813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claire/pseuds/Claire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which teenage Chris thinks about teenage Peter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Court This Disaster

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'ed by the awesome Temaris

Chris all but spills through the door to the house, wincing at his mother's yell as it slams behind him.

His "Sorry!" is shouted back as he runs up the stairs, taking them two at a time, and down the passage until he's in his bedroom.

He flicks the lock on the bedroom door, because Katie has a habit of running in when she's back home from her afterschool club, and if there's anything Chris doesn't want her interrupting, it's this.

Throwing his bag into the corner, he pulls off his jacket, dropping it where he stands.

Scrambling onto the bed, Chris' fingers tug at his belt, fumbling it open before he pops open the buttons on his jeans. He's been half-hard since he left school, holding his bag in front of him like some sort of shield until he got to his truck. If it hadn't been for the throng of other students, he'd have been tempted to just jerk off as soon as he'd slid into the driver's seat, but the last thing he needs is for his parents to be called to the school. And he's pretty sure that if he'd been caught with his dick out in school grounds, his mom and Gerard _would_ get called in.

Chris can just imagine it. _You see, Mom, there's this kid at school, and he keeps bending over in really tight jeans. Which kid, Gerard? Well, that would be Peter Hale. Yes, Hale. Yes, **those** Hales._

Although, he has to admit, it would possibly be worth it, just to see the vein in Gerard's forehead pop at the thought of Chris jerking off over a werewolf. Jerking off over Peter Hale.

Chris fishes his cock out of his shorts, hissing as he wraps his fingers around the hard flesh.

Peter. Fucking. Hale. With his bright blue eyes, and his hair that looks like he just rolled out of bed after being fucked hard.

His cock jerks at the thought, and Chris runs his thumb over the head of his cock, swiping the precome and slicking it down his skin. He tightens his grip slightly as he closes his eyes, imagining Peter laid out on his bed, his teeth worrying at his lower lip as Chris slides fingers into his ass.

He thinks Peter would whine, would tilt his head and bare his throat as Chris twisted his fingers inside him.

Chris' fingers are sliding over his cock, but even with the precome, there's still the tug of too dry skin. Keeping his eyes closed, Chris reaches out to his bedside cabinet. It takes a couple of tries before his fingers finally close on the handle to the drawer, pulling it open. He feels around for the tube of hand lotion he knows is in there, half used and slightly sticky, grinning when he finds it.

The lotion's cool when Chris squirts it onto his fingers, warming it slightly in his hand before he slicks it over his skin. He bites at his lip as he slides his hand up and down, stopping the groan as his fingers slip easily over his cock.

Chris wonders what Peter would do if he was there right now. Wonders if he'd drop to his knees, mouth open for Chris to just slide right in. Chris thinks he would, thinks anyone with lips like Peter's should be on their knees. Because Peter's lips were the first thing Chris noticed about him, mainly because Peter was mouthing off to someone at the time, and Chris couldn't help but think he could use them for better things, like wrapping them around Chris' dick.

Chris' cock twitches in his grip as he plays it through in his mind. Maybe it would be after school, maybe after basketball practice. Chris doesn't play, but Peter does, all smooth control as he skirts around people. So, yeah, maybe after basketball practice.

Peter would be the last one in the locker room, towel around his waist and water dripping down from his hair. He'd stop when he saw Chris, back against the door and bag at his feet. But Chris wouldn't say anything, just watch as a drop of water wound its way down Peter's stomach until it reached the towel.

 _Chris?_ There'd be a question in the tone, but Chris would be able to hear the underlying echo of want. Because Peter _does_ want him.

Chris would push himself away from the door, crossing the distance between them in only a few strides. He'd stop only a couple of inches from Peter, close enough to feel the heat from the shower that's still clinging to Peter's skin.

Peter would look at him, tongue darting out to lick at his dry lips. And Chris would smile, smile as he reached out, dragging his fingers through the wet strands of Peter's hair.

A moan would split the silence, and Peter's eyes would widen as he realised it was him.

_Chris--_

But Chris would stop the words, his hand cupping Peter's cheek and his thumb over to Peter's mouth. _Ssh--_ he'd say, pressing gently with his thumb until Peter's lips opened and the digit slipped inside.

And Peter would be _so hot_ inside. Hot and wet, lips wrapped around Chris' knuckle and his tongue against the pad of Chris' thumb.

Peter's eyes would close as he suckled on Chris' thumb, and all Chris would be able to think about is how much he wants those lips around his cock.

_I want you to suck me--_

Peter would just nod, his eyes opening and pinning Chris with his heavy gaze. Chris' thumb would slide out of Peter's mouth as Peter dropped to his knees, his eyes on Chris as he goes down. He'd kneel in front of Chris for a long moment, their breathing the only sound in the locker room. And then Peter would move, his hands reaching out for Chris, undoing his belt and jeans with ease.

Chris' cock would be straining behind the denim and cotton, already hard at seeing Peter on his knees. He'd feel Peter's fingers carefully dip inside in open jeans, carefully pulling Chris' shorts over his hard cock until hot flesh meets cool air.

Peter would be still for a few seconds, just long enough for Chris to wonder if he'd need to gently guide Peter's lips towards him. But just as Chris' hand would start to move towards Peter, Peter would lean forward, his tongue swiping once at the head of Chris' cock as he looks up, insolent grin on his face.

_Please--_

Chris wouldn't be able to stop the word from escaping, wouldn't be able to stop his fingers from finding their way to Peter's hair, carding through the strands before cupping the back of Peter's head. Only, Chris wouldn't need to guide, wouldn't need to cajole, because Peter would already be moving, swallowing Chris down.

There'd be teeth and tongue and lips working his cock, and Chris' groan would fall from his lips, his fingers gripping Peter's hair just that little bit tighter. And he'd feel it building. He'd feel it building low in his stomach, pulsing hot and ready. He'd feel it building with every swipe of Peter's tongue, with every press of his lips.

Peter's eyes would meet his, bright blue, even in the dull light of the locker room. And there'd be a pause, less than a beat of Chris' heart, before Peter moved, swallowing Chris down to the very root.

And Chris wouldn't know if it's the sight of Peter's lips stretched wide around his cock, or the heat of Peter's mouth, or the way Peter _hums_ around the hardness, sending vibrations right through to Chris' balls. But whatever it was, whatever combination of heat and sensation and _Peter_ , it has Chris' entire body tightening. And the ball of desire curled low in Chris would explode through him in a burst of _yes_ and _now_ and _please_ , as he spilled himself down Peter's throat--

Chris' eyes jerk open, his cock twitching in his grip as come runs over his fingers. His heart is pounding, gasping out air as he briefly closes his eyes and focuses on slowing his breathing. He hisses slightly as he slides his fingers over his softening cock, still sensitive to touch.

Reaching out, he grabs the box of tissues off the cabinet, pulling one out to clean his fingers, before quickly swiping it over his cock to mop up the worst of the mess.

Dropping the tissue onto the floor, Chris tucks himself back into his jeans, fastening the top button. Wriggling into a slightly more comfortable position, he sticks his hands under his head, grinning as he stares at his bedroom ceiling.

It's a Wednesday, and the team have basketball practice after school on Tuesday and Thursdays. And maybe Chris has been paying enough attention to know that Peter's always the last one out of the showers, always the last one left in the locker room. Maybe he's been paying enough attention to know that, for every time he's been watching Peter, Peter's been watching back.

So, yeah, maybe a detour to the locker rooms after school tomorrow is just what he needs. Chris feels his cock twitch at the thought, and his grin widens. He can't wait.


End file.
